Heroes: The Next Generation
by Lara-Van
Summary: Micah, Molly, Claire, Matt Jr, his half-sister Daniella, and others fight crime as vigilantes. When a boy of mysterious origins appears and asks to join the team, Micah has doubts, but is pressured to allow Noah Bishop to join. Mocah, Pemma & others.
1. Prologue

**A Note From Lara:** Alright, by overwhelming majority (so far, anyway) from the poll on my profile, this is the next fic I'm going to work on. It's not the one I'm most excited about, but we'll see how it goes. I don't know how long this is going to be, but I'm going to try to keep it succinct, since when I don't know a definite ending to a fic, if I go more than about fifteen chapters I tend to lose inspiration and it just fizzles (see Green Arrow AKA Clark Kent if you want to see what I mean). So just bear with me and remember- you asked for it!

Also- I'm disregarding most of Volume 3 and 4. Some important events will be brought up, but a lot of this is serious AU stuff. For example, Future!Peter goes BACK to the future after shooting Nathan. The rest will be explained in flashbacks.

* * *

_Odessa, TX_

_Eight Years Ago_

Matt ran a hand through his hair, staring through the window at the prone form of Nathan Petrelli lying in a blood-soaked hospital bed. "Is he gonna be okay?" Peter asked, leaning against the glass and watching his brother with an expression like a man on fire.

He shrugged, and even though he knew what Peter needed to hear, he couldn't bring himself to say it, knowing it might not be true. "I don't know," he said. "I don't know."

Peter's arms dropped to his sides and he rushed out of the ICU.

Matt briefly debated going after him, but instinct told him that Peter needed to be alone right now. "How is he?" a voice asked. Startled, he glanced down at the woman standing beside him he was sure hadn't been there just moments before. Her white-blonde hair was spiked out as if she'd stuck her finger in an electric socket, and her pixie face was highlighted by a pair of huge brown eyes. She was beautiful.

"Who are you?" he asked, a little taken aback.

"Just somebody who used to work for him," she said. "When he was campaigning last fall, see. I was in town and I heard he'd been shot, and I thought I'd come see how he is. Bring him flowers or balloons or something."

_I work for his father._

Matt stared at her as the thought dropped into his mind. "You don't have any flowers," he pointed out suspiciously.

She shrugged. "I wanted to see how he was first. No point wasting the money on a guy who's about to kick it anyway." Mentally, she was berating herself for the slip, and Matt listened intently. She was a very good liar, he had to admit. Her face didn't give anything away.

"You didn't work for him," he said after a moment.

Her jaw dropped. "How did you guess?" she demanded, stunned.

"I'm a mind-reader... Daphne."

She crossed her arms and cocked her hip. "Alright then," she said irritably, "you know my name but I don't know yours. Who are you?"

"I'm Parkman. Matt Parkman," he said, only realizing after he'd said it how hokey the words sounded out loud.

"Riiiight. Bond reference aside, who are you? I mean really."

He shrugged. "I've been working with him, trying to figure out some... stuff. I'm a cop, his mother was involved in a murder investigation, what more do you want from me?"

Daphne studied him, head cocked thoughtfully to one side. Before she could speak, however, he interrupted, "What's Pinehearst?" She disappeared with a whoosh. He stared at the place she had just vacated, realizing that he might have just stumbled upon something very, very big...

"Nathan!" a woman's voice screamed, interrupting his train of thought. Matt whirled around and spotted a stunning brunette woman running through the pair of doors that lead to the ICU ward.

_Another one?_ he thought vaguely as she dashed up to him, out of breath and with two young boys in tow. "Um, can I help you?" he asked as she skidded to a halt next to him.

She took several deep breaths, trying to regain her equilibrium. "I-- I came to see--" She pointed through the window at the barely-conscious Nathan.

Suddenly, the doors swung open yet again, and Peter came through, looking amazed. "Heidi?" he asked, hurrying up to them.

Her jaw didn't hit the floor, but it came close. "Peter?" she managed to whisper. "How is this...? How are you...? But... but you've been missing for months!"

Peter shrugged. "I'm not missing anymore." He turned to Matt. "How's Nathan?"

Matt shook his head. "Why does everybody keep asking _me_? I'm not a doctor, I don't know. What do you want me to do, get inside his head and make sure he stays alive?"

"Well, that would be nice," the empath said.

He sighed. "The doctor just walked through here two minutes ago. He went off that way; you might be able to find him." Immediately, Peter and the woman took off, leaving the two boys to stand awkwardly next to him. Matt stared at their retreating forms. "What just happened?" he asked himself.

_New Orleans_

_Eight Years Ago_

Fire billowed through the air and the sound of cracking mortar and shattering glass followed it. Micah landed on his stomach, palms scraping against the blacktop and forehead slamming into the ground. Monica fell next to him and cried out in pain and fear. He struggled to flip over onto his back, staring into the burning wreckage of what had once been a rundown apartment building. "Mom!" he yelled, trying to get to his feet.

But Monica grabbed his arm, kept him from running headlong into the burning building. "No Micah!" she said in a voice fraught with terror. "It's too dangerous. I... we... there might have been another way out. The doorway got blocked after I got out, so she might've found another way..."

Micah knew she was lying. She was lying to protect him from the horrible truth that was staring him in the face: he was an orphan.

Tears ran down his face, but he didn't wail and cry the way other children would have. He had seen too much in his young life. He had seen pain and passion and death and fire and glory and sacrifice last November, and deep down inside he knew this was the same, on a smaller scale. He knew that things would never be the same again, and he knew that this was the ending of his childhood- if it hadn't ended long before. But he knew that he could also make this a new beginning for himself.

He would grieve, he knew that. He was going to be grieving for his mother for a very long time. But he'd make it. He'd survive. And he'd use his powers to be a hero, like his cousin. Like his dad. Like his mom.

But for now, he was going to cry, and sit on the curb while the fire crew came to put out the fire and search for survivors, and listen to Monica give the police a statement on what had happened and be what he was in this instant- a boy who had just lost his mother.

_New York_

_Eight Years Ago_

The three people who walked into the shabby apartment were very shaken indeed. The dark-haired woman kept glancing down at the bloodstain in the center of her chest and murmuring prayers in Spanish. The professor behind her was staring about him as if he couldn't quite believe that his most hated enemy, the murderer of his father, had managed to defeat death to come back and haunt him once more. Behind them, unnoticed for the moment, was a little girl, maybe nine years old, who was the calmest of the three.

Mohinder directed Maya to a seat at the kitchen table and set about making some tea to help them recover from their close encounter. But his hands were shaking, and he dropped the kettle on the floor with a splash and a thunk. He moved to clean it up, but a smaller set of hands beat him to it. "I'll do it Mohinder," Molly said quietly. "Sit down."

She cleaned up the puddle of water on the carpet and refilled the kettle. When it whistled, she poured it into the tea pot and added a handful of Mohinder's favorite chai blend. She climbed up on a chair and got three cups down from the high cupboard, and filled them once the tea had finished brewing. She balanced the three cups in her delicate hands and brought them over to the table where the two adults were avoiding making eye contact.

"Here you go," she said. She wasn't actually cheerful, but she managed to sound bright and happy even despite her recent ordeal.

They drank in silence. Finally, Mohinder said, "Molly, with Sylar back, it's not safe for you here. I think we ought to get you away." She didn't respond. "My mother lives in India. Perhaps she'd be willing to take care of you for awhile until we can get rid of him."

She shook her head. "I don't want to go to India," she said firmly.

"But you'd be so much safer there--"

"No. If he wants me, there's nowhere I can hide from him. I'd be safer here. You and Matt can keep me safe. And so can Peter, if he's back from Ireland."

Mohinder started. "Peter?" he asked. "Peter Petrelli?" Molly nodded. "What are you talking about? Ireland--?"

She shrugged. "He was in New Jersey for a few months, and then he went to Ireland. I think he went to Canada after that, but I wasn't paying a lot of attention."

"Molly... Peter's dead."

"No he's not. I've been watching him. He was in New Jersey, at that place where you work now."

His jaw dropped in shock. "The Company?" he asked. "Peter's been with the Company?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

"Molly," he said angrily, "Why didn't you tell this to anyone?"

"They didn't want to know," she replied matter-of-factly. "They weren't ready to know. Telling them would just have made it harder. He wanted to be there. I could tell, when I saw him. He wouldn't have left even if they had been able to find him."

Mohinder shook his head, clearing away some errant thought. "This doesn't change the fact that you need to get away from here."

She fiddled with her tea cup, avoiding his eyes. After a moment she said, "I don't want to go to India. But we could still leave. I think I know a place where I could be safe."

"And where is that?" Mohinder said indulgently.

Molly looked up and met his eyes squarely. "New Orleans," she said firmly.

* * *

**Alright, I meant to wait until I'd finished Rebel's Angels to post this, but I just couldn't. I had it finished, and I never leave a finished document just sitting there, so... well... yeah. Reviews, please. You voted, so I'd like some feedback.**


	2. The Helix Corps

**A Note From Lara:** I know I should be working on Welcome to Real Life. It doesn't seem like it, but I'm actually getting pretty close to done with that, and I know people are clamoring for faster updates. But I felt the need to update this instead. And also, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm REALLY fudging the ages here, just to make sure they're all relatively close to the same age, particularly with Daniella, who really should only be eight or nine. But I've bumped it up quite a bit, so that's that. Enjoy, review, tell your friends!

* * *

_Seattle_

_Present Day_

The rain slicked down, as it always did in Seattle, and made it difficult to see very far ahead of you. Marianne Anderson flipped the collar of her jacket up in a futile attempt to protect her neck and back from further soaking, but it didn't do her much good. Rainwater soaked through her curly blonde hair and streamed down her face into her eyes. For the thousandth time, she wished she'd brought an umbrella. She should've known better- she'd lived in Washington her whole life, and she really ought to be used to the weather.

But as she shortcutted through an alley, a problem of a more serious nature presented itself. A balding, heavyset man with deep-set eyes stepped out of the shadows and planted himself in front of her. "Hello my dear," he said. "I've been looking for you for a long time."

Marianne stopped short, raising her hands defensively. "Look, I- I don't know you, man. Just go away, 'kay? I don't wanna have to hurt you."

He smirked. "Hurt _me_? You wouldn't."

"Wanna bet?" she asked.

His self-satisfied smile irritated her, and when he took a step forward, the palms of her outstretched hands burst into crimson fire. "Ah," he said, "So I was right. The mirror-image of my Meredith, complete with flame-throwing action." He snapped his fingers together, and suddenly her palms slammed against each other, and the fire clasped between them singed her hands. Marianne gasped, and doused the flames. She was also suddenly aware that she couldn't move on her own. Fear shot through her, and she whimpered slightly behind a tight-lipped mouth.

Her assailant took a step toward her, and ran a hand over her cheek possessively. "Yes," he said quietly, "you'll do nicely. Just like my former love... only younger. Better. Yes, you and I will be great together, my dear Marianne." She managed to jerk back when he said her name, but a twitch of his fingers and she was immobilized. He drew his face close to her own, and she felt his hot breath against her lips. "Now," he whispered, "give me a kiss."

"Bite me, you sonofa--" Her lips clamped shut around the words, and her head tilted to one side.

All at once, a figure dressed all in black dropped from the top of the building to her right, hurtling down toward the pavement. The figure slammed hard into the man's back, then flipped gracefully away to land in a catlike crouch.

Once his concentration was broken, Marianne was able to move again. Flames erupted from her hands once more, but she soon saw that they were unnecessary. The man was unconscious on the ground.

Her savior rose to her feet, and Marianne saw that it was a girl her own age, maybe twenty or so. She was impossibly beautiful, with large brown eyes. Her sweep of dark hair carried just a hint of auburn in its length as it brushed past the turtle-neck of her black shirt. She looked almost like a government operative, because the black leather vest she wore over her shirt was full of pockets that appeared to contain all sorts of interesting things.

"Who are you?" Marianne asked.

The girl smiled. "Haven't you ever heard of the Walker Tracking System?" she asked rhetorically.

Marianne's eyes widened. "Oh," she said quietly. "Um... thanks. I guess I owe you my life."

"Nah, you don't. Not your life. Doyle here wouldn't have killed you. He'd have just used you as his own personal plaything until he got bored with you and decided to go look for another Meredith Gordon substitute." She paused to consider that, then shrugged. "Then again, I guess to some, death might actually be preferable. This guy's one sick piece of work. Listen, Marianne- that's your name, isn't it? Yeah, you've got a useful power. It's been awhile since we've had a flamethrower in the group." Her eyes suddenly grew sad, but she shook it off and continued. "If you ever wanted to join the Helix Corps, just give us a call." She reached into one of the pockets on her vest and produced a little white card, which she handed to the shaken Marianne.

Then the famous (or infamous, depending on your point of view) Molly Walker activated a comm unit in the watch on her wrist, and spoke into it. "Hey Clobber, wanna come give me a hand with this guy? I'm _so_ not carrying him myself." She paused, and Marianne realized that she had a little black earpiece like the kind the Secret Service wore. "What do you mean where am I? I told you exactly where I was going before I even got out of the van! If you can't be bothered to remember that... Alright _fine_. Thank god for brothers who actually pay attention, huh?"

Marianne shuffled her feet uncomfortably. "Um... can I go?" she asked.

Molly looked up, apparently surprised to still find her there. "Oh, sure, yeah. Remember what I said. Anything you need, just give me a call." Marianne walked quickly away, careful not to break into a run until she was well out of sight of the Walker Tracking System...

_Upstate New York_

_Helix Corps Headquarters_

"We caught Doyle, Dad," she said. "We've got him sedated in the facility here, so whenever you're ready to come put him away _again_..."

The man on the other end of the line sighed. "It's not my fault the idiots on duty didn't follow regulation. Don't give me grief because he got out."

Molly smiled as she pictured him running a hand across his jaw in frustration. "I know it's not your fault, Dad. Look, couldn't you just... I don't know... couldn't you whammy him into having some kind of spiritual intervention thingy or something? Or make him forget Meredith Gordon so he'll quit chasing after girls who look like her?"

Matt Parkman sighed again. "Molly, we've talked about this. I don't do that any more. Not big ones. Mind-reading, sure. Little things, sure. But I'm not gonna completely alter someone's personality ever again. Not after that last fiasco with Knox. I tried, I failed, and it's never permanent. As much as we'd like these powers to make it easy, we can't this time. Rehabilitation has to come in its own way."

"I know," she said irritably, "but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

He laughed. "I know. I'll send a couple of guys in to pick him up ASAP."

"Thanks Dad." She ended the phone conversation, put down the last details of her report on the incident, and went to face the music.

Upon entering the so-called "director's office," (even though there ostensibly was no official director, everyone knew who was in charge), she spotted a familiar dark head bent over a Blackberry, keying in details of she didn't know what. For a moment, she just watched him. God, he was so cute when he was concentrating...

"Hey," she said finally. "I brought Doyle in."

Micah looked up, and set the device down. "You were sloppy," he said. "There's a _reason _we disguise ourselves. The very least you could've done was slipped your damn mask on before you went in. It's not like it takes that long."

She snorted. "Um, yeah right. Unlike certain other people, I have to rely on my own physical prowess when I'm taking down bad guys. No special enhancements. It's my own strength and speed and fighting skills, and wearing the mask doesn't exactly help my peripheral vision. I get to chose between wearing that thing, and staying alive."

He couldn't argue with her logic, but he looked like he wanted to. "I know. I get that. I just don't want to see you get manipulated because some creep finds out who you are and decides to exploit you."

Molly shrugged. "Not like half the population of Dallas didn't see my face after that thing with Flint last year. If my face isn't already plastered all over the internet..."

"It was," he said. "I went through and removed all the digital files."

"Very impressive. Why didn't you mention it to me? I'd have had a couple fewer sleepless nights."

Suddenly Micah shook his head, and moved around the desk to stand in front of her. "When did we change the topic? Look, I understand your reasons for not wanting to hide your face, but it's in the best interests of safety that you do."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "For my safety? Or for someone else's?"

"For everyone's!" he exclaimed. "If not for yourself, than for the rest of the team! You and me, we don't really have any family, but them? Simon and Monty, Daniella, Matt, they've all got people waiting for them at home each day. If they get hurt, they'll be missed. If their families get hurt on their account, it's our fault. You've got to be more careful for their sake, if not your own."

"Speak for yourself," she muttered, turning away from him. "I do have a family. They're not biologically my family, but still." Her eyes stung at the reminder of everything she had lost. It was worse still that it was Micah who had reminded her. He was the most important person in her life. He was the one she had turned to when she had nowhere else to go, and he had taken her in, no questions. But he still managed to hurt her deeply on the rare occasions when he wasn't thinking, and this was one of those times.

He let out his breath in a huff, and ran a hand through his curly hair, looking absolutely dejected. "I'm sorry, Moll," he said quietly. "I know you know all this stuff. But I just don't... I don't wanna lose you. You're my best friend, you know?"

"I know," she said. Then she held out her arms. "Truce hug?"

Micah grinned. "Truce hug."

They embraced.

"Hey, get a room, will you?" a voice demanded.

They broke apart, and turned to see who had interrupted them. "Hey Mom," she said. "Don't tell me _you're_ the "team" Dad's sending to pick up Doyle!" Daphne Parkman laughed, shaking her head. Her straight blonde hair swung around her face.

"Nah, no errands for your dad today," she said. "I just figured I'd drop by and see how Daniella's doing. First day on the job and all."

Micah smiled at her. "We're keeping her on smaller assignments- Class A stuff for now. Don't want to overwhelm her until she's gotten more used to this. I'm glad to see you're okay with her working with us, Mrs. Parkman. I know your husband wasn't really keen on letting her join the team."

Daphne grinned. "Nah, I'm glad Dani's got something to do. Just don't keep her working too hard. She's still in school, you know."

"Sure, Mrs. Parkman. We'll look out for her."

"I know you will, Micah. And seriously, don't call me Mrs. Parkman. I'm Daphne. Even Molly calls me Daphne _most_ of the time." Micah's grin widened. You couldn't help but smile at Daphne. "Well, anyway, just thought I'd pop by, see how Dani was doing. I'd better get back. I have a bunch of deliveries I've still got to make today," she said.

She blurred out of the room, leaving the two of them alone. "Speaking of maternal figures," Molly commented, "How's Nana?"

"She's good," Micah replied. "She's working at a grocery store now, so they've got a lot more money coming in. I still can't convince Monica to join the team, but I'm working on her."

Molly smiled. "Maybe you'd have more luck if you waited until after she got her degree. It's really important to her, you know. But you don't need me to tell you that."

"No, I guess I don't."

They stood in silence for a few seconds before Molly glanced at the watch/comms unit on her wrist. "Holy crap," she muttered. "It's like ten-thirty!" Micah looked dumbly at her and she sighed at the need to explain herself. "It's late. You've been here since six a.m. Knock it off for a few hours. Turn it over to Simon and Claire. God knows, they'll hold down the fort."

Micah looked hesitant. "I don't know. I've still got a lot of stuff I was hoping to get done today..."

Molly sighed inwardly, and resorted to one last ploy. "I'll buy you coffee," she said enticingly.

"Alright, fine," he said. "I guess I could do with some sleep. Just give me a sec to message Claire and let her know she's on deck."

* * *

Claire groaned as her watch let out an irritating buzzing noise. "Alright, alright," she groaned, covering her face with a pillow to block out the glare of the streetlights. She pulled on a sweater over her pajama top, and a pair of jeans. She slipped shoes on her feet just in time, as a whooshing noise sounded through her apartment. "Hi Dani," she muttered.

The tiny speedster appeared before her. She was a fourteen-year-old version of her mother, right down to the spiked hair her mother had sported in her younger days. "Hey Claire!" she said. "I'm supposed to give you a lift down to headquarters. Somebody finally convinced Mike to take the night off, so you're in charge until he gets back at six."

"Great," she muttered. "You people do realize I have a job, right? I have to be at work at nine a.m. tomorrow."

Daniella grinned. "Yep! But you're a regenerate. You don't exactly get tired. And a little protein bar will perk you right up before you go in to work."

"Whatever you say, Dani. Whatever you say. Look, let's just get going so I can go back to sleep on my desk."

Dani's wide brown eyes grew still wider. "Claire! The Helix Corps is serious business! How can you talk like that?"

Claire sighed. "You take everything way too literally, you know that? It was a joke. Mostly." A second later, they were standing in the director's office. "Thanks Dani. And speaking of people who should be going home, isn't it time for you to knock it off for a few hours too? I mean, you've got school in the morning."

The speedster grinned. "Yeah, but I was thinking about skipping to throw in a few extra shifts here. Not like _White Lightning_ needs to go to school anyhow."

"White Lightning, huh? Nice code name," Claire said sarcastically.

For once, Dani actually picked up on it. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't be talking too much, Cheerleader," she laughed.

Claire grimaced. "Good point," she said. "Look, Dani, I missed a lot of school when I was younger for... well... one reason or another. But trust me, you can't rely on just your power. I mean, I can because I literally don't need anything. But you might want to at least get your diploma."

"Being a freshman sucks, though!" Dani insisted, her dark eyes looking pathetic. "The seniors are hazing like crazy this time of year, and I'm sick of people trying to give me swirlies."

"They really do that?" Claire asked.

For a moment, Dani held her serious face and Claire was tempted to tell her to just run far and fast from that kind of cruelty, when the little speedster burst out laughing. "Ha! You actually bought it!" she exclaimed. "I win! Monty, you owe me some serious cash!" She disappeared out of the room, and Claire shook her head, wondering what that had been about.


	3. Just Another Day in the Corps

**Important:** Okay, as I'm sure you've realized, the timeline here is really flexible, and I'm basically reneging on the whole 8-years-ago thing I said in the prologue. But the timeline is weird in Heroes, too, so we'll just ignore that. So let's go over some ages, because I'm going more for that than any specific timeline. Trying to figure out the convoluted Heroes timeline hurts my head. Micah and Molly are both 23, Dani is 14, Simon is 20, Monty is 16, Matt Jr. is 15, and Claire is 30 (but she looks like she's about 18). Keely is 24, and Avery is 27. Lexie and James, the twins, are 15, and the only explanation I can give for why this is possible (as you will realize later) is time travel. I'm sorry. Time travel. Just roll with it, okay?

* * *

_Helix Corps Headquarters- Director's Office_

_The Next Day_

"Claire? Claire!"

Claire sat up, wiping groggily at her eyes. "Huh? Wha--?" she mumbled. She could feel the places where the book she'd been reading had pressed lines into her face fading away even as she spoke.

Micah stood in front of her, arms crossed, looking very stern. "Claire," he said, "I expected more of you. Falling asleep on the job? What were you thinking? If a call from one of our field ops had come in, what would you have done then?"

She got to her feet. "Sorry, Mike," she said. "That's what you get when you wake me up in the middle of the night."

He glared at her, but before he could continue to chastise her further, she picked up the time sheet she'd drawn up before passing out on her book. "I've got the schedule for the next couple weeks made up," she said. "Dani and Matt are coming together after school Monday and Friday. Molly and Simon are covering Wednesdays and Fridays in the morning, and all day Tuesday. Monty and I are here starting at four on Wednesdays and Sundays in the afternoon. Keely is taking the night shifts Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday, and Avery's covering Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday nights. The twins are coming in Thursday afternoon and Sunday morning."

"What about me?"

"You? You're here whenever you feel like being here. This is sort of your party after all," she pointed out.

Micah nodded curtly. "And who's covering Saturday?"

Claire grinned. "Saturday? October is an even-numbered month. Training day Saturdays. Everybody's going to be here all day."

His bright smile broke out suddenly all across his face. "I gotta give you credit, Claire, you know your stuff. Honestly, I don't know what we'd do without you."

"Oh yeah, I'm indispensable," she said sarcastically. "Making time schedules isn't hard, Micah. I mean, for god's sake, I own a restaurant, it's basically all I do!"

"And that's why you're so good at it," he said. "Speaking of which... don't you have to be at work about two minutes ago?"

Claire shrugged. "Oh please, I'm the co-owner. I can show up whenever I want; if anybody seriously needs to talk to me, they can leave a message with Lyle. That's the beauty of being your own boss."

Micah nodded. "Alright, fine then. Thanks for your help, Claire."

The pretty blonde grinned, waving goodbye as she walked out of the room. Micah marveled at her energy. She had only been awake a few minutes, and working on only a few hours' sleep from the night before, and she was still as bright as ever.

Not for the first time, he wished his power gave him more physical rewards. Technopathy was useful and he was glad to have the ability, but it was somewhat lacking in physiological changes. He didn't have boundless energy like Dani or Claire, and he didn't have amazing muscles like Simon. In fact, the only way Micah had managed to build up any musculature at all was by spending long hours at the gym, at first working through his grief over his parents' deaths, and later his feelings for Molly.

Ah yes. There was the source of his greatest trouble in life. Molly Walker, AKA The Walker Tracking System. She had been his best friend since they were ten years old, and he had been in love with her at least half of that time. But she seemed completely unaware of his feelings; or if she wasn't, she chose to ignore them for the sake of preserving their easy, familiar friendship.

He had tried going out with a few other girls, in the hopes that one of them would help him forget his feelings for Molly. But all of them were just too... too. Too silly, too shy, too literal, too vapid. Something. None of them had ever stayed up for three days straight watching a Star Trek marathon with him (or at all, for that matter). None of them were willing to listen to him talk about computers, let alone actually understand what he was saying. Not one of those other girls had ever been "accidentally" tangled up in superpowered international intrigue. None of them made him go a little weak at the knees just by walking into a room. No one was as pretty, as interesting, or as funny as Molly.

But every time he went on a couple of dates with some blonde he'd met in Rio or wherever, she acted like it was a personal affront to her. Honestly, if she didn't want them to be more, it was hypocritical of her to expect him to stay single and remain her best friend forever. There was no reason for her to behave like a scalded cat every time he so much as _looked_ at something with breasts...

"Morning!" Molly said brightly, walking into the room at that exact moment. Her dark hair gleamed with just a hint of auburn in the sunlight streaming through the window behind him and her warm brown eyes were sparkling. She plopped a paper Starbucks cup down on the desk in front of him. "As promised, something highly caffeinated and delicious.

More from the foul mood his thoughts had brought on him than anything else, Micah snapped, "Coffee makes me jumpy."

Those captivating eyes registered hurt, and immediately Micah regretted his irritability. She glared at him for a moment, then said, "I'm going to pretend that wasn't a total lie, okay? Now. Let's start again. Good morning, Micah. How's it going?"

Micah grimanced. "Sorry, Moll. Things are great. Claire got the time sheets for the next couple weeks drawn up, and the reports, as far as I can make out, are pretty well in order. The continent's been quiet since yesterday. A little bit of trouble in Zurich with a pair of terrakines shaking things up in the most literal sense, but a our contacts over there were able to handle it."

She smiled. "So the new program's working?" she asked, referring to the computer program Micah had designed to comb the internet for any and all news updates that might indicate a super-power problem somewhere in the world.

"Yep," he said. "It's way easier than having you scan the planet, if not quite as accurate."

"Great," she said. "Well, listen, I was just stopping in to bring you your coffee and check up on the aftermath of that situation Simon and Keely were dealing with in Madagascar yesterday. Things have settled down, right?" Micah nodded to confirm that they had. "Perfect. Alright then," she said with a grin. "In that case, I really have to go. I'm _so_ gonna get fired if I don't show up for work today."

And with that, she was gone, taking her light with her.

_Helix Corps Headquarters- Training Room_

Avery Kellor leaned against the wall, waiting impatiently for someone else to arrive that he could spar with. It had been too long since he had practiced hand-to-hand combat, and his last encounter with Benjamin Knox had taught him that he couldn't _always_ rely on his power.

To his delight, it was Alexis Petrelli who walked into the room. Perfect- another person on their little team who relied to heavily on her abilities.

"Lexie!" he called.

The teenager glanced over at him. She looked a great deal like her father, with the same classic features and friendly brown eyes. The only difference in them was Lexie's cascade of long blonde hair, just like her mother's. She was short in stature, much like her twin brother, James, and delicately built with it. But what she lacked in physical strength, she made up for in sheer power.

Lexie was an empath, like her father, though not quite of the same caliber as Peter. She had an upper limit of perhaps a half-dozen powers before she had to reject one of them for fear of losing control of all of them. Still, six powers was a huge advantage in an "enhanced" battle, and if her brother was within a hundred yards of her, their abilities seemed to blur at the edges so that they could access the abilities the other had. The trouble was, sometimes she would get herself into a situation where none of her collected abilities would help her, and she needed to know how to defend herself without them.

Avery teleported across the huge space between them rather than walk the entire length of the training grounds.

"You're lazy," she commented when he appeared in front of her. "You're gonna get fat."

He grinned. "Better fat than with a power I don't know how to control," he said.

She raised one eyebrow. "So do you want anything in particular, or are you just gonna stand around and make snarky comments all day?"

"Yeah. Sparring," he said.

"Um..." Lexie pretended to consider it. "No. You hit really hard, and the last thing I need is to deal with a bruise. Unlike some people, I have to go to high school and endure public scrutiny."

"I thought you had healing!" Avery said.

She shook her head. "Nah, Jim does. He loans it to me if I need it, but he's gone with Mom to Canada."

"So why don't you just teleport up there?"

Lexie sighed. "Um, 'cause I can't teleport?"

"So ask me or your father... or hell, even Hiro if you can find him... one of us would give you a lift."

The blonde smirked. "Thanks, but no thanks. I prefer to just let the problem sit, since I wouldn't want to spar with you even if I wouldn't feel a thing. I'm here to pick up my time sheet for the week, 'kay? That's all. No sponsored violence."

Avery shrugged. "Suit yourself."

* * *

That second scene was a little strange, I'll admit. I'm mostly just trying to get the newbies introduced so you kind of get a feel for them. Now here's a game- see how well you remember all the stuff I've published over the last few weeks. Notice a theme? That will tell you who Peter's wife is.


	4. In Love and War

**A Note From Lara: **I am SO sorry that this has taken so long to get out! My writing and reading schedules have been so out of whack with college applications and scholarship applications and Calculus (which is WRECKING my GPA, thanks for asking) and my friend being hospitalized... it's just been hectic.

Still not 100 percent sure where I'm going with this one. I have a few vague ideas, the catalyst for which is going to be introduced next chapter- I think you'll recognize him- but nothing absolutely concrete. As a result, I'd absolutely love to hear your suggestions.

* * *

_Petrelli Apartment_

Lexie fumbled with her keys for a few minutes, then let out an irritated groan and gave up. Keys hated her- always had. She could not make a door open up with any kind of ease for the life of her. She elected to just phase right through the wall instead.

A pleasant surprise waited for her on the other side. "Jimmy!" she exclaimed, greeting her twin. "I thought you and Mom didn't get back until Thursday!"

He shook his head. "Nah, her last symposium thingy got canceled, so we decided to come home a few days early."

Lexie grinned. "That is _awesome_," she said. "Having you halfway across the continent has been bumming me out."

James ruffled his sister's hair affectionately; like all Petrelli siblings, it seemed, the two were remarkably close. As twins, they bore a marked resemblance to each other, both miniature versions of their father. However, Lexie had inherited their mother's wheat-colored locks, while James' hair was as dark as Peter's.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, trying to conceal a grin. "You're needy, you know that?"

She slapped at his hand and danced away into the interior of the apartment. "Whatever you say, bro. Is Mom home?" she called from the living room, where she slung her coat haphazardly across the back of the sofa.

"No, she had to go down to the hospital to deal with something or other with the new microsurgery equipment," James said, following her.

"You mean that thing Micah invented?"

"And sold to Synchron MedTech for like a jillion dollars? Yeah, that's it."

Lexie grinned hazily. "Isn't it funny how life is circular? The sale that gave Mike the cash to really make the Corps a serious thing ends up helping Mom's career, too..."

Recognizing the tone and the strange look on her face, James sighed. "Incoming premonition, huh?" She frequently talked about bizarre things and made connections between things that were only loosely related before the onset of a precognitive dream. It was a strange side effect of the ability that had never affected Peter or James or Angela. For reasons they had yet to diagnose, Lexie just reacted badly to precognition. James secretly suspected that it was just her need for control that rebelled against her mind being hijacked by the future.

His sister nodded tiredly, flopping heavily against the back of the couch. "Yeah. It would be nice if it didn't feel the need to announce itself like a week before I ever have the dream. That way I could just quit worrying about it and get it over with."

"I guess," James said noncommittally. Then, casting around for a change in topic, he asked, "So, what did you guys get up to at Helix while we were in Canada?"

Latching onto the new topic with unrestrained eagerness, Lexie grinned. "Molly brought in Doyle... _again_. And Dani's started with us, couple days a week."

"Really?" James asked, eyes lighting up with interest. "I missed her first day? _Damn_."

Lexie couldn't help but smile- James' feelings for the Parkman's daughter was blatantly obvious to everyone except the two involved. He frequently would reject extremely useful powers out of hand, in order to take her speed ability back to keep up with her, yet was incapable of admitting, even to himself, that he liked her. Daniella, who had a tendency to be oblivious when it came to her effect on others, had no clue. Everyone else, though, could see that James had had a crush on the girl from the moment they'd first met at one of Mohinder's famous Christmas parties two years before.

"Yeah, you missed her first day. Shame, but oh well. We've mostly been doing training stuff with her right now- no missions yet. Maybe you can help her out with that..." She trailed off suggestively, allowing just enough time to pass before she spoke again that James would have time to realize what she was implying but not enough to get a word in. "Anyway, Avery and Simon took down this weirdo in Florida who could make any woman desire him past the point of reason and he was going around making underage girls do really kinky things on video and then he would--"

At that point, James held up a hand to silence her, somehow managing to blanch and blush at the same time. He was quite shy, and hearing about anything even remotely sexual tended to make him turn twelve different shades of scarlet. "That's creepy," he muttered.

"Try being the one who had to review the tapes so that I could go down there to mindwipe everybody involved," Lexie said peevishly.

White won the battle with red in his face, and he stared at her. "I thought... I thought we weren't doing that memory-erasing thing anymore," he said quietly. "It's too much like the old Company..."

Lexie shook her head sadly. "I know, I know. But it had to be done. It's not like we're doing it to cover up the existence of Specials or anything, though. That would be just a bit pointless, after Claire's stunt when we were kids. Those women were _raped_, Jim. Horribly. Should they really have to go the rest of their lives with that messing them up, if I have the power to make it go away?"

"You can't make it go away, Lex," he said softly. "You can't change the past. You're just messing with their heads, doing that. It still happened- they just don't remember it."

Neither of them could come up with anything to say after that, and so they merely sat in silence. When the lowering twilight made it necessary to turn on the lights in the apartment, James waved a hand absentmindedly, telekinetically flipping the switch. The Petrelli apartment was quiet.

_Micah's Apartment_

He was playing the piano when Molly let herself in. She'd had the key to his apartment (which had once belonged to his idol, Peter Petrelli) for years, and never even thought twice about using it anymore. It had bothered her, at first. Giving away a key to your apartment was something you did for a girlfriend, not some random friend, even a best friend. And god, she wanted to be the former so badly sometimes it actually presented itself as a physical ache. But eventually she'd grown accustomed to just walking into his home, and he into hers.

She stopped in the doorway to his living room, leaning against the frame and studying him. Micah's eyes were closed and the music seemed to flow, not from the piano, but from himself as the main theme from the Grieg concerto poured through the air. His concentration was intense, and his face was relaxed, transported. It was times like this that Molly fell even harder for him, because she was able to see beyond the mask of calm and responsibility and burden that he never took off. She was able to catch a glimpse of the little boy that still resided within the man.

It was something that, even in the role of the best friend, she rarely got to do. Micah let her catch tantalizing glimpses of his vulnerable side, but shortly afterwards, he would immediately withdraw, and hide behind a discussion of movies or music or the Corps or something equally mundane. That seemed to be a lot of their relationship, particularly after the warm openness that all children possess began to fade in their teenage years. Hiding. He hid a lot of what he was thinking and what he was going through, and she hid her feelings for him. For the girl who could find anyone, all this hiding was grating on her nerves. But she couldn't lose him as a friend, and if it didn't work out, she undoubtedly would. She'd lost too many people in the past to risk it.

"Hey," she said, as he brought the music to a masterful close.

Micah jumped at the sound of her voice. "Hey," he replied when he saw who it was.

"I keep telling you, if this whole medical equipment magnate-slash-superhero thing doesn't work out for you, you could totally be a concert pianist. You'd make killer _dinero_."

"Whatever," he replied gruffly, but Molly could see a hint of a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. Standing up, he crossed the room to her as she unfolded smoothly from where she leaned against the wall. "What's up?" he asked.

She smirked. "I can't come visit my BFF without a reason?" she asked. In the back of her mind, she was thinking of how much the phrase 'BFF' sounded like 'boyfriend' if you said it fast enough.

"Guess not," he teased. "I'm afraid you're going to have to invent one on the spot, aren't you?"

Molly forced her face into a faux-concerned look. "Well, now that you mention it, there is that nuclear crisis going down in the Sudan--" He burst out laughing, and she gave up the pretense and laughed with him.

"No, seriously," he said when he could breathe again. "Why're you here?"

She shrugged. "I don't actually have a reason," she said. "I just thought maybe we could watch a movie, get some takeout, just hang out. We haven't done that much lately."

Micah's face was suddenly conflicted and hard to read. "Yeah, well, conflicting schedules," he mumbled, running a hand through his black curls.

"You _make_ the schedules!" Molly exclaimed, suddenly incensed. He was avoiding her eyes, just like he seemed to have been avoiding _her_ for the last few months. The suspicion had been building up for awhile, and irritation with it, but she had suppressed it as she usually did. That was what friends were about, right? Not pressing the issue if it wasn't a big thing. But Molly was beginning to wonder if maybe it _was_ a big thing? Micah wouldn't avoid her without a reason. And she was over the waiting game she'd been playing. She was done waiting for him to open up to her.

--

"Can you honestly tell me that you don't have _one_ night you can take off to hang out with me?" Molly demanded, staring at him with a strangely intense look on her face.

"Yes," Micah said shortly, her curt, "don't mess with me" tone getting him angry faster than anything he'd ever encountered could. That was the problem with Molly, he had concluded. She could make him happier than anyone he'd ever met, but she also made him angrier faster, as well.

"What, you got somewhere better to be?" Molly sneered. "You seemed to have plenty of time to romance the piano!"

At her word choice, his brain sparked off a train of thought that ended nanoseconds later with a brief, hazy flash of the two of them, skin-on-skin in the darkness, and slow, intense kisses... Micah shook off the thought even as it plunged him into resentment at her obliviousness. "Yeah, well, maybe the piano's better company!" he exclaimed bitterly.

"Oh, so now I'm an intrusion?" she demanded coldly. "Well why the hell did you give me a key, then?"

"I gave you the damn key for safety reasons!" he yelled at her. "We live dangerous lives! In case something happened, I wanted there to be somebody who could get into my apartment fast. But maybe I picked the wrong person, huh? I could be held captive by Eric Doyle or whoever the hell else and you probably wouldn't notice for a month! It's obvious you don't pay a damn bit of attention to me!"

"Don't you dare say that!" she half-shrieked. "Don't you dare say I don't care, because you know damn well it's not true! What the hell is up with you?!"

They were a foot apart, yelling at each other, and as she stared up into his eyes, challenging him to give her an answer to her furious demand, it suddenly was too much for Micah. Her green eyes were white-hot with anger, and her face was flushed, and his own anger transformed wholly into the desire it had stemmed from. He crossed the last inches between them and pressed his lips to hers in a passionate kiss...

* * *

**Did you know that The Bangles are really excellent writing music? Who knew!?! Reviews = love!**


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